


gilded

by krbk



Series: Golden Phoenix [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: (in second part), 19 year old characters, F/M, First Time, Pirate AU, Sort Of, alcohol use, if that is an issue for you please be mindful, minor violence (i.e. a bar fight), pirates and associated pirate themes, two consenting adults do a little bit of sex after drinking some alcohol, what's edward elric drinking? it's respect women juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krbk/pseuds/krbk
Summary: Winry can protect herself. Edward knows this. It does not mean his blood boils any less when someone disrespects her.Introspective/feelsy sort of relationship exploration with some soft smut.(Golden Phoenix offshoot/one-shot: minor spoilers for the AU, but not necessary in order to read this. Set a few months ahead of current plot.)
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Series: Golden Phoenix [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718608
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. I

“I’m still not gettin’ it,” some older woman started loudly two tables over. “Why bring one of them aboard now? He knows what his boys have been doing and he knows damn well they ain’t repentant. I'm sayin’- we shoulda kept with the old crew. These youngin’s ain’t nothin but trouble. Can you imagine if ol’ Pinako coulda see the state of us? Luggin’ some new navyboy around like he’s one of us?”

The bearded man across from the woman speaking took a long sip of his ale and leaned in conspiratorially, but spoke no more softly. Edward could see the tension in Winry’s shoulders build as she listened to the dialogue behind her. 

“You know why young Rockbell’s so invested in him? I reckon it’s ‘cause she just wants his pretty golden head between her le- FUCK!”

Her fist had already made contact with the man’s face before Edward could even get out of his seat- to defend her, maybe? He felt his face flush. 

“Keep your vile thoughts to yourself, Kinsword, or so help me god there’s more where that came from.”

The man named Kinsword already had a bright red welt blooming underneath his eye, but all he did was scoff at her words. 

“I ain’t afraid of you. I’ve been hit by people three times your size. Anyways I reckon I'm gonna keep speakin my mind over here, unless you’ve got a problem with that.” 

Kinsword turned his back to Rockbell, and Edward felt anger surge into his chest. He felt the kind of familiar rage he knew from his bar fights in the past- punching out drunk assholes who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. 

Before he could even let a sliver of doubt enter his mind, Edward vaulted over the table and stood behind Kinsword. Rockbell gave him an unreadable look. 

Kinsword turned, regarding Edward with a patronizing shit-eating grin. The man stank like booze and grime, and he licked his lips before turning to Rockbell, and in a stage whisper:

“Oh look, you got your boytoy to come to your aid. A proper damsel in distress, ain’t ya?” 

Edward grabbed his shoulder roughly with one metal hand, forcing the man to look at him. 

“Did you not hear what she fucking said? Or can you not hear anything with your head crammed up your own ass?”

“Oh, he’s got some bite to him,” Kinsword grinned again, looking conspiratorially over the table at the woman across from him, who was now watching the scene with a measure of caution. Edward noticed briefly that the entire galley had gone quiet. 

Edward glanced up to Rockbell, who was standing with her jaw set, the same inscrutable expression on her face. 

Kinsword turned back to Edward, and in another stage whisper, “You think she’s that fiery in the sack, too?”

The words had barely left his mouth before Edward’s left fist connected with his nose. Kinsword scrambled to his feet, flailing his hands at Edward, trying to land a blow. 

Blood was flowing freely from his nose and the man’s now somehow uglier face was twisted in rage. He charged at Edward, shoulders down for a tackle, but he dodged out of the way by jumping onto one of the galley benches. 

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” 

Kinsword was obviously a brutish fighter, whatever training he might have once had drowned in the flagon of ale now empty and overturned on the table. So when he rushes Edward again, Edward lands a solid blow at his belly and knocks him clean to the floor. 

Ordinarily, this is where Edward would find himself fleeing the scene of a fight before any more damage could be done, but given the circumstances he settled for crouching down to Kinsword’s level, bracing his metal knee against his sternum. 

The smell of blood and ale was ripe when Edward leaned in close to Kinsword’s face. The bravado ran away from his face. 

“I may be some straight-laced good-for-nothing navyboy but I swear to whatever you believe in that if I hear you talking about Rockbell or any other woman onboard like that again I will break some fucking bones.”

With that, Edward stood up. Kinsword gasped for air on the ground below him as he turned on his heel and went back to his seat. 

The din of the galley slowly returned when he sat. Rockbell was giving him a confusing look when she sat back down across from him. She said nothing, however, and downed half her flagon of ale at once. 

* * *

“Thanks for that,” Rockbell says quietly as they left the galley and walked down the long hallway to the infirmary. 

Edward doesn’t say anything right away.

“Listen- I don’t want you to get the impression that I thought you couldn’t have handled that yourself.” 

She looks genuinely surprised at his words. 

“I-“ Rockbell pauses. Some tension visibly leaves her shoulders. “Thank you for that, too.” 

They walk in silence for a few more paces. 

“Maybe you should keep that wrench on hand when you’re around me.” 

That pulls an unexpected laugh from her, and she turns to face him with a small smile. 

“Maybe I should.” 

The door to the infirmary swings open easily and Edward finds himself strangely comforted by the familiar smells of herbs and machine oil. He sits down on the cot. 

Rockbell lights a few candles at her desk and carries one over to the low table next to him. 

“Let me check your bandages before you get too comfortable.” 

Edward rolls his eyes just a little, but acquiesces. His shirt buttons give his metal fingers a bit of trouble, but he gets the shirt open so Rockbell can peer underneath the fabric wrapping his wound. 

“How long will I have to keep the bandages?” 

“Probably just a few more days, from the looks of it. Gonna have another nasty scar though.” 

Edward looks down at the uncovered wound. It was a clean pink line that ran from his ribcage to his right hip, almost intersecting with the large healed sunburst scar on his waist from the ragged piece of shrapnel that had almost killed him in the gunpowder explosion so many years ago. 

“Just means I survived, it’s no big deal.” 

Rockbell says nothing, instead applying the herbal poultice to his side. It burns warmly but he doesn’t complain, letting the faint pain absorb into his bones. 

“You’ve got a funny attitude about the world, you know.” 

Edward raises his eyebrows. 

“Do I really?”

“I don’t understand it. You desert your station without a second thought to join a pirate crew you hated in order to find your brother, and then you turn around and get into a fight on my behalf. It’s like your motivation makes no sense.” 

He frowns. 

Her hands ghost over his side as she works to rewrap the wound. Half of her face is illuminated by the warm candlelight as she turns to face him. 

“I’m glad you’re on our side for now.” 

Edward doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

Rockbell shifts and starts reorganizing the medicine and bandages on the table. 

He sits up to untie his hair and slides the shirt off of his shoulders to sleep. 

He notices another unreadable expression on Rockbell’s face before he lays back down. 

“What is it?”

“Hmm?” 

“You’re looking at me weird.”

Her cheeks tinge pink. 

“I am not.”

Edward stretches his automail arm over the pillow behind himself and regards her. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

“I’m thinking about how much I wanna hit you with a wrench, asshole.” 

There’s no real bite behind her words, and Edward grins, despite himself. 

“You can’t hit me, I’m injured.”

He gestures towards his side with one hand. Rockbell huffs out a breath. 

“That doesn’t mean anything!” 

“All of your hard work keeping me alive would be in vain,” Edward snickers. 

She doesn’t hit him with a wrench, but she does thump him lightly on the chest with one closed fist. 

“Ow,” he jokes. Somehow- this bantering with Rockbell is familiar, easy. 

He thinks out of the blue that she and Alphonse would get along perfectly. 

Edward feels the mirth leave his face. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me I actually hurt you because I know that’s bullshit.”

There’s still a hint of a grin on her face that fades with every passing second. He notices her wide blue eyes shift to concern. 

“It’s- nothing,” he sighs, “It’s just that my brother would really like you.” 

“Oh.”

Rockbell seems like she’s at a loss for what to say. She fidgets with her hands in her lap before fixing him with an earnest gaze. 

“I’d love to meet him one day.” 

“Yeah,” Edward says, faintly. 

The energy of their conversation completely dies out, and both of them sit awkwardly in silence for a few breaths. 

“Thank you again for earlier,” she murmurs. The inscrutable look from before is back. 

“Of course.” 

“I- hmm. Can-“

“What?”

Rockbell looks frustrated with something. 

Before he can ask her exactly what, she stands up and retreats to the other side of the room to her narrow bunk. 

“Good night, Edward.” 

“Good night.”


	2. II

It’s a clear, beautiful night, with a near-full moon hanging amongst a crowded indigo netting of stars. The sea is calm, and the flat beach they sit on has only the shallowest of waves washing up upon the near-glittering sand. Edward finds himself content, sprawled out on the beach, with a belly full of fire-roasted chicken and his limbs heavy with the warmth of clear rum. 

His hair is still unbound and damp from his dip in the water earlier. A steady yet gentle sea breeze blows the shorter strands back, and he closes his eyes and lets the salt air wash over his skin. 

Edward hears the sound of shifting sand when the glass jar is set back down next to him. He glances up to see Winry, half-illuminated by the distant bonfire, half-washed in pale moonlight. The tip of her nose is pink. 

“You know,” Winry hiccuped, “I have a small confession to make.”

He picks up the jar of rum from the sand and takes a deep swallow. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember-“ she hiccups again, “Do you remember- it was like your first week onboard... what that guy said, before I- no, you- no... both of us- punched him?”

Edward laughs, and his mouth feels clumsy when he tries to speak.

“Yeah, I remember that.” He leans back on one arm in the sand. “He was being a dick.”

“Mhm,” Winry agrees, absently. She holds out her hand for the jar he was still holding. He gives it to her and watches as she takes a long sip from it, downing it like it was nothing. 

“Anyway... I still don’t know what he meant-“ she frowns. “What he meant when he said that one thing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Winry sits up and brushes her bangs out of her eyes. Edward notices the tips of her ears are flushed, too. 

Her voice drops to an almost-comical whisper: “What he said about like, your head between my legs.” 

“Oh- that means,” Edward finds himself snickering. “It’s when-“

He feels his face heat as his sliver of non-rumsoaked consciousness actually catches up to the question. 

Her cheeks are flushed too, but there’s a wide, curious look to her eyes. Winry tilts her head slightly in question. 

“It’s like, um- It’s something you can do to someone with, uh, your tongue.”

Her eyebrows raise. 

“Have you ever done it?” 

The rum does nothing to dull the fire threatening to burn its way across his face. 

“No- I mean,” he stutters. “One of my old crewmates-”

Winry looks at him curiously. 

“No!! I didn’t- he talked about it a lot. And.. a lot of other stuff like that.” 

Edward finds his face aflame. It isn’t like he’s a horrid prude or anything- he’d been in plenty of brothels to ask the women if they had seen men with an ouroboros tattoo. Never as a customer, but nonetheless he’s seen his fair share of bare human flesh. The rum in his veins is certainly what was causing this, he thought. 

It couldn’t be her long legs crossed in front of her, bare save for a pair of short cutoff trousers. Or the pale moonlight disappearing into deep shadow at the curve of her breast. It couldn’t be the rough tips of her fingers when they brushed his hand while passing the jar of alcohol. 

“So it’s just like... licking?” Winry makes a face, pulling Edward out of his moment of introspection. “That doesn’t sound like it would feel very good.”

Edward shrugs noncommittally. 

“From what I overheard from some women onboard, it’s not bad.” 

She stays quiet for a moment. He looks over at her. 

“Does nobody on this ship talk about that stuff?” 

Winry sighs. 

“Not to me.” 

”Why not?”

She fixes him with a curious look. 

“My grandmother owned this boat. Everyone onboard knew her, and I’m the youngest crewmember by about five years.” she hiccups, “I’m like a little sister to half of the people on the Lady Flame.”

“So they don’t..?” 

“The only reason I know how anything works is because of medical textbooks and overhearing drunken conversations. Like these.” Winry smirks. 

Edward takes another sip of rum and hands the glass back to her. 

“And you’ve been on this boat since you were eleven?” He gestures absently toward the anchored ship several hundred feet away. 

“Yeah.” She sighs again, takes the rum from him. “I’ve not even had a kiss.” 

He doesn’t mean to, but he snorts out a small incredulous laugh. Winry slaps him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Don’t laugh! I don’t suppose you’ve been around much more than me!” 

Edward crosses his arms belligerently. And drunkenly. 

“And how would you know that?” 

She shifts her legs, angling towards him to give him an unexpectedly teasing grin. 

“You blush like a maiden every time I unbutton my shirt near you!”

“That’s modesty I-“ 

“It is not.”

“It is!”

“Is not!” 

“It is!!!” 

“Okay then,” she sets the jar of rum down on the sand again. 

“Look at me.” 

Edward complies, feeling his face warm. She’s got a dangerous look to her face, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. 

He turns away, blushing. 

“Fine. I’ve only kissed one person.” 

“Oh really?”

He can  _ hear _ the grin in her voice. 

“Who was it?”

Edward sighs. 

“Some girl on one of my later stations. She was my age and assigned to the same gun and bunk room as me.”

“And?”

“She kissed me a few times. It wasn’t much of anything.” 

“Hmm.” 

When Edward looks back over at Winry, she’s running one finger idly over the rim of the jar and looking out at the sea. 

The two of them are quiet for a moment. 

“How is it?” 

“What?”

“Kissing. What does it feel like?” 

He shrugs and looks up at the stars in the sky. 

“It’s pretty nice, I suppose.” 

“Do you think-“ Winry starts, and he watches her brows furrow. Her fingers fiddle around in the sand. 

“Can I-“ she stops again. Frowns. 

“What?”

Her eyes don’t meet his when she looks back towards him. 

“I want to know what it’s like.” 

“It’s-“

She interrupts him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The words don’t immediately make sense in his brain when she says them. She shifts nervously. Her eyes are wide in the moonlight. 

He chokes out a hoarse, “Yeah. If you want.”

Winry slides closer to him in the sand and folds her legs so her knees touch the side of his thigh. He can feel his heart beat in his throat. 

“I’m not that-“

She cuts him off with her lips clumsily pressing against his. Her nose is smushed awkwardly against his own, and she seems precariously off balance. Edward pulls back after a second. 

“Hold on.” 

He sits up fully, facing her properly instead of lounging in the sand. 

He slides one slightly trembling hand up to the side of her neck and guides her back to him. He can feel her pulse racing under his palm. When they make contact again it’s much less clumsy. 

They don’t fit together perfectly at first, but after a few seconds he tilts his head further to the side and they find a common rhythm. Edward can feel her long eyelashes against his skin and her lips are soft against his own. One of her hands rests on his leg for balance. 

The two of them break apart to breathe. 

Winry’s eyes are soft and half-lidded when she opens them. They search his own. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Edward breathes. 

Both of them lean in for the third kiss. Winry makes a surprised gasp when his mouth coaxes hers open and he nudges her tongue with his own. The gasp turns into something like a moan but the angle is getting hard to maintain and they both start to run out of oxygen and their lips part reluctantly to gasp in air. 

She swings one knee over his lap and straddles his hips to fix the angle. This time, she doesn’t hesitate to lean in again. 

With all of his senses engulfed in her, he’s in no position to deny her. She tastes like rum and coconut milk and her body is warm, so warm, against him. Her hair, long and curling slightly from the salt water, tickles his arm as she sweeps it out of the way to change angles. Between the heat of her soft thighs and the pleasant cloud of the alcohol in his veins, Edward is content to stay like this forever, actually. 

He snakes his arm around her hips, holding her close. She’s gotten the hang of kissing, and when she breaks away to breathe he notices her lips are pink and swollen from friction and he leans in and takes her bottom lip between his teeth and tugs lightly and the low moan that escapes her seems to surprise the both of them. 

“Sorry I-“ 

Her voice breaks when Edward ducks his head under her jawline and trails his mouth over her pulse point. He explores her reactions, scraping his teeth over her earlobe, kissing just under her chin, sucking on her collarbone. One of Winry’s hands goes to the back of his head, and he feels her fingers tangle in his loose hair.

“Can you- oh-”

Her hips surge against him and she moans into his hair when he gives her a soft bite between her shoulder and neck and with an immense amount of willpower he has to stop and pull back to look her in the eyes. 

Winry’s entire face is flushed, pupils blown and half-lidded as she gazes at him. She starts to lean in again. 

He stops her. 

“Hm??” Her nose is almost touching his and he has to screw his eyes shut to resist the temptation to get lost in her again. The impossible heat between her thighs resting against him didn’t make it any easier. 

“I think we should stop.”

She furrows her eyebrows in question, a flicker of vulnerable uncertainty coloring her gaze. 

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone could see us.”

Her blue eyes turn out at the water, to the Lady Flame docked a hundred yards away. 

“Let’s go onboard then.” 

Edward’s mind stutters a bit around the implication there. 

He nods, too fast. He knows that he’d kill to keep making her make those soft moans that she muffled in his hair. 

He’s almost disappointed when she rises to her feet, her sweet heat gone. 

“Hell of a first kiss,” Winry mumbles with a grin. Edward can’t help but snicker. 

They leave the jar of rum where it sits in the sand and swim back to the rope ladder that they use to climb onboard. Both of them are soaking wet again by the time they stand facing each other on the dock, but there’s a warm tension that runs between them like a taut rope and dampens the chill of the breeze cutting through their clothes. 

Winry takes his hand in hers and leads him below deck. He really doesn’t need the direction at this point, but Edward finds he doesn’t mind just having a reason to be in contact with her skin. 

The door to the infirmary had barely closed when she turns to him expectantly. Edward can barely see her in the darkness, the moonlight from the window shining only a small milky puddle on the floor. 

He moves to light the small candle on the desk so he can see her properly. 

He considers that being able to see her was a mistake; because the sight of Winry, flushed and biting her lip in deliberation makes him want things he doesn’t know how to articulate in words. 

Her white cropped blouse is soaked through from their short swim, and he can see her nipples hard through the thin fabric. Winry’s straw-blonde hair falls in damp disarray around her face, and she brushes it out of the way while those midnight blue eyes of hers gaze headily at him. 

Edward sets the candle down on the small table next to her bed. 

She lifts up just slightly to reach him, and he easily obliges her. Her hands rest lightly on his chest, and he feels her palms grasp at the damp material of his shirt. 

He lets his hands sink to her waist, the curve of the bare, exposed strip of skin above the top of her cutoff trousers infinitely tempting. She squirms at the cool touch of his metal hand against her flesh, but quickly relaxes into his grasp. 

The two of them easily settle back into a rhythm, and he lets her experiment with biting his lip, his jaw, his throat. He’d be altogether lying if he said it didn’t pull sounds dangerously similar to groans from his throat. 

The temptation of her warm skin against his body doesn’t relent. He pulls her in so her hips are flush with his own and her breasts press soft against his chest. The layers of damp fabric between them begin to be an annoyance. 

“Win...”

Edward pulls back:

“What do you want?” 

Winry slides her hands down his chest to his abdomen. The same half-lidded gaze fixes upon him and he nearly has to catch his breath at the intensity of it. 

“I don’t know.” 

To tell the truth, he doesn’t either. 

He settles his lips back on her neck. 

“I want-“

Her voice fades into a sigh when he sucks at her earlobe. 

“Mm?”

“Anything.”

She pushes him away just slightly, her hands leaving his body to come up to the front of her blouse. He notices them trembling faintly as she undoes the top button. And the second. 

He wets his lips, trying and failing to keep his eyes on her face. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Winry.” 

“Neither do I,” she breathes. 

Her blouse falls open. She shrugs the fabric off of her shoulders, bare from the waist up in front of him. Her hands drop to her sides. 

Winry looks near ethereal in the dim candlelight, the curve between her hip and breast illuminated sharply against the shadows of the room. The gentle slope of her jaw turns up towards him expectantly. 

After a moment spent quietly and reverently admiring her, Edward finds some modicum of instinct driving him to guide her by the waist back towards him, where he can feel the gooseflesh prickle across the skin of her lower back. 

“Your shirt is cold,” Winry murmurs against his mouth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers back. 

She manages blindly to untuck his shirt and get half of the buttons unfastened before they even have to part for breath. 

Edward takes the hint and pulls it over his head before she can attempt at the last few remaining buttons. The two of them stand there for half a second just looking at each other before Winry pulls him back down to her. 

The press of her bare skin against his chest is exquisite- warm and soft and so very willing. He wants to map every one of her curves with his eyes, his hands, his tongue. 

“Tell me to stop if you want to.”

Her blue eyes, dark with an interesting sort of need, meet his and she nods. 

Edward slides his left hand up her ribcage, his scarred knuckles just barely brushing against the underside of her breast. Winry exhales and he can feel the warmth of her breath against his neck. 

He tentatively rubs his thumb over her nipple, already hard. Her voice catches on her next inhale and he hears the faintest hint of a gasp. 

He repeats the motion, watching her face shift away from curiosity and into something darker. 

Edward gets an idea. He ducks his head down level to her chest and traces her right nipple with his tongue and takes it gently into his mouth. The sound that she makes is this wonderful breathy moan that makes his already-tight trousers feel even tighter. 

“Mmhm,” she hums, pressing one hand against the back of his head as he switches to the other breast. 

He pauses and stands up to guide her over to his cot. Before she acquiesces and sits down, she frowns. 

“My trousers are still damp.”

Before he can say anything, Winry is sliding her cutoff trousers down her thighs, leaving her in only a thin pair of cotton smallclothes. 

Edward can’t help himself. His eyes rove over her hungrily, her bare legs and soft stomach infinitely interesting. Something about her, he thinks, makes her so impossibly alluring, and he was a fool to not recognize it before. There is a tenderness to the way he wants to treat her that he never had experienced around any other person. 

It’s different from the girl from the one three-month caravan station. She was pretty to look at, and soft to hold, of course, but Edward had the feeling she was only interested in him because he was one of the few people her age on the boat. 

With Winry, he feels a more all-encompassing kind of emotion- something he couldn’t quite label. Strange, that it would take something like this to make him realize how much he really did want her. 

Winry sits on his bunk gingerly, back to a sort of reserved desire concentrated in the knuckles grasping at his bedlinens. 

He doesn’t care about getting the blankets wet with his damp clothes. He sits next to her, already leaning in to capture her lips again. 

One of her hands comes up to rest on his jaw, and her touch is warm and soft but firm as she holds him prisoner to her. Not that he would ever want to escape, of course. 

“Listen,” he starts, after catching his breath, “I don’t want to go any farther than you want to.” 

“Okay,” Edward can nearly feel her lips move as she speaks, “I’ll let you know what that is.” 

“I still don’t know what I’m doing but- I want to try-“

She cuts him off. 

“Go back to touching me.”

He eases her up to rest her head on his pillow and leans over her almost-naked form beneath him. Edward lets himself stare again, appreciating the flush on her cheeks and the several bite marks peppering her neck. Her nipples are pink and hardened and he can see the faintest hint of blonde curls disappearing into the waist of her smallclothes. 

He eagerly takes her nipple into his mouth again, giving it a slow, steady suck while carefully running his tongue around the peak. He noticed from earlier that she seemed to like that kind of friction, and he’s rewarded with a delicious squirm before he lets it pop out of his mouth and slides over to her other breast. He runs his thumb smoothly over the tip while he gives the other nipple the same treatment and Winry makes the most obscenely alluring whimper in the back of her throat that makes him have to close his eyes for a second to regain some composure. 

She shifts around her legs underneath him, and he moves to allow her to cradle his hips between her thighs. The warmth between her legs is practically radiant, and when she squirms, that heat brushes over the front of his trousers and he grits his teeth to keep from crying out. 

Incredibly, she keeps making those little whines and sighs and soft moans as he continues to play with her nipples. He gets more confident with it, grazing his teeth against one and gently pinching the other. 

“Ahh-“

Edward repeats the same action on the other side and is rewarded with a firm grind of her hips against him. 

“Can I?” He trails his hand tentatively down her belly, between her legs. 

“Please,” she whispers. 

He runs his fingers blindly over the front of her smallclothes, the soft, thin fabric providing little resistance to his touch. He glances up to see her bottom lip held firmly between her teeth. 

Hand still between her legs, stroking aimlessly and directionless, he rises to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. 

“Tell me what feels good?”

He experiments, running two fingers up the front of her, following the contour of her body. The linen of her smallclothes is damp to the touch, and Edward doesn’t know how much of it exactly is owed to the seawater. 

Winry sighs softly at his touch, her thighs trembling faintly with barely-concealed nerves. He rests his hand on her leg reassuringly. 

“We can stop if you want to,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against the edge of her jaw. 

“No I want-“ she exhales softly. Her hand grabs his on her thigh. “I like what you’re doing.” 

He feels his face burn with something located between pride and arousal. He doesn’t say anything, but lets her guide his hand back between her thighs. Her rough fingertips hold his fingers firmly over a small area near the front of her smallclothes.

“Right there.” 

He presses against her, watching as her eyelids flutter. 

“Oh.” 

He draws his fingers in an experimental pattern, dancing over her heat until he finds an insistent rhythm that has her pressing herself up into him. 

“That’s-“ she’s gasping quietly, lips parted, “that’s really good.” 

Her breath comes in small pants and she brings one hand up to cover her mouth, her eyes, then to rest in his bed linens and draw them up into a fist. 

Edward finds himself in awe of her, of the way her thighs quiver around his forearm, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts from her panting, the increasingly desperate whimper-gasps that escape from her lips and fill the air with an intoxicating fire that seems to burn his very skin. 

He feels like he’s being set on fire slowly from the way she squirms under his touch. 

Her voice breaks, and he hears her gasp his name before she trembles violently and arches her hips into his touch. Her eyes are screwed shut, her mouth open in a small ‘o’ as she whines and whimpers through her orgasm against his hand. 

Her body relaxes after one final shudder, and her eyes flutter open to regard him with unguarded wordless surprise. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers quietly. 

He notes with interest that her smallclothes were nearly entirely soaked through with her wet heat. 

She gazes at him, her eyelids heavy and pupils soft. Her lips are plump and bitten and her cheeks are flushed. Wearing only her smallclothes in his bed. 

He doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows that he needs it very soon. 

“Did they teach you that in the navy?” 

Winry’s voice is soft and teasing. She’s still so god damned alluring, he thinks, as he lifts himself up to lay next to her on the narrow cot. 

Edward answers her with a soft snicker. Her body curves against his easily, and she brushes her foot against his automail one before sliding her leg over his. He tries to think about anything other than this post-orgasm Winry in his bed with him and how he can still smell her heat and-

So much of her warm, naked skin pressed up against him has his nervous system short-circuiting. 

“Can I?” 

Her warm hand comes to rest on his lower stomach. Her question is clear, and his very cells ache with a resounding answer. 

“Yeah,” his voice breaks, barely audible. 

Her lips meet his again, and she pulls back to whisper, millimeters away. 

“You’re going to have to show me how.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this on my phone. cheers.


End file.
